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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26259211">Achilles’ heel</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starzfrenia/pseuds/Starzfrenia'>Starzfrenia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mission: Impossible, Mission: Impossible (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Secrets</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:02:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,524</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26259211</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starzfrenia/pseuds/Starzfrenia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Life is waiting for you" is read in a delicate paper.  Will Ethan run to meet Ilsa after she vanished 4 years ago?  The former british agent hopes he will, her son's life depends on it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ilsa Faust/Ethan Hunt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>68</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Inevitable</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hola! this is my first fanfic, hope you like it.<br/>English is not my first language, please be kind if you find any mistakes, I am most certain you will.<br/>Just give the story a try :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>ILSA POV</p><p>August 13, 2022, 02:00 hr, somewhere in Norway.</p><p><em>Those are boots walking on wood. </em> I sit up in bed trying to adjust my eyes to the dark. I feel disoriented, a sudden noise woke me up in the middle of REM sleep.</p><p>I swear I heard the floor creak, or did I dream it? Instinctively, I reach to my left and have a microsecond of relief to find Thomas's soft hair resting on my pillow.</p><p>I want to make sure the noises are not a product of my imagination so I get out of bed and place my ear to the door ... I wait ... my heart starts beating so fast ... I hear one bang, then another, it sounds like someone just stumbled and I hear Thomas's little toy car rolling across the wood. Dim lights dance around trying to break through the slits and that gives me the signal: I must move fast.</p><p>My hands find the door handle and I lock it. A loud click notify the intruders where we are.</p><p>I find myself running to Thomas, he is now in my arms and I am whispering the words we both know into his ear; he growls because I am most certain he thinks this is another of my paranoid trainings and wants to continue sleeping.</p><p>This adrenaline rush reminds me of the old days, when I was able to take down 4 men with just a pair of legs and some quick moves, the difference now is I am almost 5 years older, owner of a hardly trained body and I am carrying 45 pounds of dead weight, the most precious 45 pounds.</p><p>I run pass the bathroom, get to the walking closet and kneel right next to the corner that we both know by heart. I sit Thomas on the floor, his little hands start rubbing his eyes. Winter coats are the perfect hiding place; I push my way through them as I hear a loud blow, they are trying to get rid of  my bedroom door.</p><p>My fingers find the false wall I am looking for.  A panel makes its appearance behind it and I type the numbers that will give me access.</p><p>"Sweetheart, this is not a training session. The time we’ve being preparing for has come. We will be real spies; but you will have to hide by yourself for a while."</p><p>Another blow on the door. According to my calculations, if they use dynamite or a large firearm, the door will be open in two minutes.</p><p>"Mommy come on!" - He is already sticking his little head in the tunnel, eager for the adventure that I have made him believe it will be.</p><p>We must crawl for about 10 feet then we find a ramp that takes us to the stash: a 10x6 ft room that Thomas finds very attractive, due to the equipment I have carefully chosen for it.</p><p>I turn on the lights and kneel to face my child. His little eyes reflect so much maturity and it's surprising considering he's only 4 years old.</p><p>"Thomas, I have to go out" - and I tuck a lock of hair behind his ear - "This is not a test, do you understand me? Remember what we practiced ... I'll come find you in a while or he will..."</p><p>"I know mom, go" – He hugs me and kisses my forehead.</p><p>I hold him tightly in my arms - I love you - I say trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to fall at any moment.  I need to show him that everything will be fine. He has to believe it.</p><p>1:30 seconds. I am leaving the hideaway and not looking back. I hear the explosion just as I finish placing the last digit that closes the hatch and setting the false wall. I press the oh-so- important red button.</p><p>There is only smoke and dust around me; a continuous beep on my ear is getting me dizzy.   Their flashlights crossing the threshold are blind me.  Five figures come through the door; I have no chance to fight against them. Not now at least, in another life I could have defended myself. </p><p>I raise my hands so they can see that I am not armed.</p><p>If there is no risk of death, then I will “barely” put up resistance.  I have thought about this a million times, waiting for the day the bad guys would come to my door to take away what I love most.  Thomas and I have practiced at different times of the day and thousands of possibilities, because I was sure that this event was inevitable.</p><p>Immediately two black figures take my arms. I see a third man approaching and he has something in his raised hand; it looks like  it has a pointy end so I decide to use the two men for support and manage to kick the guy in the chest. He is not getting near me with that thing.</p><p>They let go of my right arm.  It seems my body wants to take over the situation cause my right foot is now getting on the bed behind me and using it to get some impulse to climb onto the guy’s shoulders, who seconds ago was holding my left arm.  I squeeze my thighs tightly against his neck and he falls ... I get a chance to breathe ... I am thrilled to discover that my legs remember what to do: I can still leave someone without air by using them properly.</p><p>Unfortunately, I don't buy much time. A blow comes straight to my nose, so hard that it throws me to the bed, I see stars and I feel the taste of blood in my mouth, one of the guys throws himself on top to disable me.</p><p>I see how two men enter the walking closet ... I hold my breath. They leave almost immediately, without finding what they were looking for.</p><p>"Where is the child!" The guy on top yells at me and all his saliva falls all over my face.</p><p>I don't say a word. They know about Thomas and they are looking for him!</p><p>A fist lands on my cheek and makes me bury my face in the pillow. Pain and blood again. I can't quite recover when the man throws another punch at me, my mind goes numb almost immediately and my eyelids feel very heavy. I am fighting unconsciousness.</p><p>Two hands are shaking me by the shoulders and I sense with great effort that he intends to hit me again. I decide to use my knee and I aim to the softness between his legs, he grunts in pain and moves to the side.</p><p>I am able to breathe again, for two seconds at least.</p><p>Two come up to me, one tugs at my hair and another hits me on the nose again. Is it the only thing they know how to do?</p><p>"Where is the child!" They scream again.</p><p><em>Think Ilsa</em>. It is important that they believe my son is not with me; I have to get everyone out of here as soon as possible, if they stay longer they will search exhaustively or Thomas could come out of hiding.</p><p>I am weighing my options when I feel the dreaded cold metal on my forehead; a revolver is pointing at me.</p><p>"He is not here!" – I scream - He is with my mother.</p><p>A moment of silence.</p><p>One of the men searches for his phone – Boss he is not here ...  We have her ... Yes, we checked.  He is NOT.  Copy that.</p><p>He rushes towards me.</p><p>"We are leaving."</p><p>I feel a needle digging into my neck. I wait for the dark and it comes almost immediately.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Unwanted</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>August 12, 2022, 9:00 p.m. somewhere in North America.</p><p> </p><p>It has been three months since Ethan walked through that door, his apartment door.The place felt more unfamiliar than any of his European shelters.</p><p>Only for a short time, he allowed himself to believe that this was his home: whenever he returned to find her, lying on the sofa, taking a shower or cooking pasta.  Ethan shook his head as if trying to get that woman out of there, out of his mind.</p><p>A frown wrinkled his forehead. That gesture was always there, every time he allowed himself to remember her.</p><p>He came in reluctantly and kicked off his shoes. He placed the keys in the carved wooden box that “someone” suggested he should keep on the table for items he didn't want to lose.</p><p>Ethan settled into a chair and opened the laptop in front of him; he had to do something to occupy his time when he was not on a pending mission.</p><p>He was about to type the password when his keen sense of hearing picked up rapid footsteps approaching his door. His weapon was soon out of its holster.   He waited.</p><p>Seconds later a white envelope slid through the crack in his door. He immediately jumped from his place to catch up with the messenger, but he did not see him and it was not important to go looking for him barefoot without knowing what the letter contained.</p><p>He was surprised at how delicate the envelope was and tried to open it without damaging it. Someone must have put a lot of effort into it, he thought.</p><p>He took out the paper and read two sentences, one below the other.</p><p>Life is waiting; you must go find it Ethan.</p><p>Kongsveien 49 1177</p><p>IF</p><p>He frowned again and crumpled the letter. It soon found its place into the carved box.</p><p>Almost as if wanting to forget what had happened moments ago, he sat down again and put the password on his laptop ... 3452227 ... while the machine was thinking he turned his eyes to look at the paper, he felt anger flooding his body and a stitch in the middle of his forehead.</p><p>The agent went back to his computer. Open mail: click: 450 unread emails.</p><p>451… one more had just arrived.</p><p>Sender: Casablanca.</p><p>Ethan exhaled at the reference, his mind escaped to a paper marked with red lips, a pool and a woman, the most beautiful of all. He shook his head. Click to open the email.</p><p>Final notice. Norway, Ethan, it is important. TF</p><p><em>TF, not IF, a typo. Not very characteristic of Ilsa, </em>he thought.</p><p>The stitch in the forehead again.</p><p>
  <em>What is Ilsa hoping for? That I go running to this address, halfway across the world, after 4 years of knowing nothing about her? After she left without even an "I won't be back again"? </em>
</p><p>He was certainly able to search for her at the time, using all those technological means he knew by heart.  But it was worthless, she didn't want to be found.  Ilsa fled after agreeing with him on a life together, they were already setting up a plan to fit both of their worlds, including all their peculiarities.</p><p>Clearly, he ignored the obvious. What his head kept telling him: Ilsa always had a hidden agenda…<em>Did she ever love me? Was something real?</em> Because even though it was hard for him to accept it, Ethan did allow himself to love her.</p><p>He didn't realize it, but he was now standing in front of his window, his fists clenched.</p><p>His eyes burned, desperate to ease the load of tears that had been stored there for so long, but as always, he managed to control them.</p><p>Ethan pressed his temple, closed his eyes and exhale.  <em>Not this time, Ilsa</em> - he thought.   He took his shirt off as he walked to his bedroom, not even granting a last look at the unwanted message.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Acknowledgment</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Long chapter :) I have the whole story written down, just checking grammar and details.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>ILSA POV</p><p>Date: Unknown - Place: Uncertain</p><p>I need to breathe ... the first thing I register when I wake up is that I am short of breath. When I inhale and get the oxygen needed for my brain to run, I realize that I am not at home and that I left Thomas alone. How long has it been? My eyes are shedding tears, not because of the physical pain I’m definitely feeling, I am hurting inside because my kid must be thinking I abandoned him. He is just a small child, who doesn’t understand why it is so dangerous to have a mother like the one he’s got.</p><p>I need to set my sentiments aside, for my own good.</p><p>I survey the place: I am in a room without windows; there is barely anything in here, only a bed, a tiny table and an internal door. White walls.</p><p>Nor my hands or feet are tied, which appears very odd to me. I sit up and immediately regret it. My head is falling apart, I try to ease the pain by placing my hands on both temples.  It feels like a hangover raised to a thousand power, the substance they used to put me to sleep must have been very strong. <em>What day is today?</em></p><p>The door opens and a guy with a tray approaches. "Breakfast," he says.</p><p>“<em>Would you mind telling me the date please?”</em> How formal I sound.</p><p><em>“Saturday ... 13<sup>th”</sup>-</em> he says.</p><p>
  <em>“Time?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“11:00 Hrs.”</em>
</p><p>I slept only for a  few hours. I must be in Norway … or anywhere that can be reached in a 9 hour trip… It doesn’t sound that encouraging.</p><p>Another man comes in and leaves towels and a bundle that looks like clothing at the foot of the bed.</p><p>Ok, I wasn't expecting this. What a neat treatment for a hostage, I would feel more comfortable in a cold cell, like the ones I have “visited” many times… some time ago.</p><p>I look at both men they have no weapons with them. They are service personnel if I am not mistaken. I could try and bring them down, couldn’t I?</p><p>Nope… I notice at least a couple of men hanging at the door and I bet they do have some lethal toys.</p><p>After a few seconds I order my mind and my body to come to terms, the least I need is them performing on their own account:  I will act to get my freedom back once a considerable percentage of success is guaranteed and only after I identify the reason I was taken.  I must know why they were looking for Thomas cause something tells me I am just a fill-in.</p><p>Once I get that information I will do my best to come out in one piece, I owe that to my son.</p><p>My head feels better now, so I am getting up now.   That inside door is the first thing I want to inspect. It looks like a bathroom. <em>And, yes it is</em>. They even left shampoo and soap. I take a glimpse at the main bedroom door… Should I?...</p><p>I mentally raise my shoulders, what’s the worse that could happen?  I come in and rinse my face in the sink. The water is turning alarmingly pink. I examine my head: I have coagulated blood all over my hair.</p><p>There is a shower and it looks very tempting. If this whole situation is so unusual, why not go along with it.</p><p>I grab the towels and clothes they left for me, close the bathroom door and take the opportunity.</p><p>It was only 5 minutes, I wasn’t taking a luxury bath at all (I am giving myself explanations of my reckless action).</p><p>When I come out of the bathroom, I find a man sitting comfortably on the bed, with a book in his hand.</p><p><em>“Mrs. Faust, I see you’re making yourself comfortable.”</em> He grins and a shiver travels through my spine. <em>“Let me introduce myself”</em></p><p>No need<em> -</em> I tell myself. I know exactly who that is: Vic Calos, a prominent drug dealer, successful businessman from northern Europe, known for his huge parties, celebrated conquests and a display of excessive altruism.</p><p>
  <em>“I'm Vic Calos.”</em>
</p><p>In the flesh.</p><p>
  <em>“…And this is my house. I want you to feel like a guest, despite the circumstances in which you were brought here, ask for whatever you need and they will bring it to you.”</em>
</p><p>I want my son, I think to myself.  But definitely not here.</p><p>He takes a long look at me, studying me from head to toe.  He closes his eyes as if he were disgusted with my appearance and I soon learn that he is.</p><p>
  <em>“I picked some clothes for you so that you were comfortable. I see you have chosen to keep your pajamas” </em>
</p><p>I lower my eyes to inspect myself and see my shirt full of blood. This is not the best outfit, but it works for me, I would choose it a thousand times before the low-cut dress they brought me.</p><p><em>“I am going to keep my own clothes”</em> I respond as coldest voice I could find.</p><p>Vic stands up and walks toward me. He's tall, he's wearing an open-necked shirt, jeans and leather shoes, slick black hair crowns his head, the most thick eyebrows I’ve ever seen raise in his face as a reaction to my answer.  I imagine many women must consider him attractive.</p><p>I find myself taking two steps back when I see him closer.</p><p>
  <em>“I'm not trying to scare you.”</em>
</p><p>But the asshole keeps moving forward.</p><p>He continues his approach until his nose is three inches away from mine. He puts both his hands on my arms and I stare into his eyes.</p><p><em>“What do you want from me?”</em> - I ask him.</p><p>“<em>Hmm… I need something that belongs to you actually. Unfortunately I did not find him where I thought I would. And you know, my plan doesn't work without him: Thomas ...”</em></p><p><em>“Why?”</em> – I whisper and I try to hide my anger, but my eyes get wet just at the fact of hearing the name of my son on the lips of this miserable creature</p><p>
  <em>“Well, the most logical thing, sweetheart, you can understand that I do not like the crude and ordinary but in this case I have no other option ... desperate times, desperate measures right?... I need him as bait”</em>
</p><p><em>“I don't understand”</em> - I answer very quickly.</p><p>Vic pulls away from me and I exhale in relief.</p><p>
  <em>“You know Ilsa, I don't like wasting my time.   It truly annoys me when a woman as smart as you plays dumb…Ethan Hunt, do you know him? The father of your child.”</em>
</p><p>A feign mocking laugh leaves my mouth.</p><p>
  <em>“He's not Thomas's father.”</em>
</p><p>I am not able to finish my statement properly when I see Vic take two strides towards me. He has just slapped me with the back of his hand.</p><p>I did not see that coming.</p><p>I would have answered the blow, but I know I would earn a beating from his men. I weigh my options and swallow my pride.</p><p>
  <em>“Do not make me hurt you.”</em>
</p><p>Then I am to blame for his misogynist attitude. This guy is amazing.</p><p><em>“What I hate the most is being taken for an idiot”</em> - he continues. – <em>“That child is the spitting image of his father.”</em></p><p>The bewilderment invades me. When and how did he see Thomas?  I can’t hide I’m shocked.</p><p><em>“I see your surprise ... I've been close to him, more than you can imagine, I had to make sure that he was Hunt's son before making all this fuss. I'll tell you everything in two minutes, I need a drink first” – </em>He raises his hand.</p><p>The door opens immediately allowing one of the assistants to come in, a very young man, with short hair and a strange scar on his cheek.</p><p><em>“A Martini for me and a glass of ... white wine for the lady”</em>.  Vic orders the boy and then turns to address me. <em>“Ilsa, put on the clothes they brought you.”</em></p><p>It is not a suggestion. It sounds like an order.</p><p><em>“No, thank you.”</em> – An order I choose to defy.</p><p>Vic bites his lower lip, takes the book in his hands and pats it.</p><p>I soon learn it is a signal because two men arrive and stand dangerously close to me.  If their boss chooses to nod I could be knocked out.  I think about it and realize that it is not worth taking hits, not now; I have to keep a physical and mental integrity.</p><p>So I turn around and head to the bathroom. Anger starts boiling inside me, dangerously.</p><p><em>“I need you to change your clothes here”</em> - Vic says and I stop in my tracks.</p><p>One of the guys walks into the bathroom and hands me the dress, then they both leave the room.</p><p>This f… idiot. I close my eyes for a moment and then turn around. This is his way of submitting me, but he's not going to pull it off, not like this.</p><p>Vic remains stoic, never taking his eyes off me and making no gestures.</p><p>In my mind, I am murdering him in every possible way… even so I am ordering my body to comply.</p><p>I start taking off all the clothes I have on me, calmly, not allowing my hands to cover myself. I have to show him that I am not afraid, although inside I feel that I am being forced in every possible way. Take it easy Ilsa, you have endured worse than this …</p><p>I put on the blue dress.</p><p>And when I'm done, I just stand there, not taking my eyes away from him.</p><p>A knock on the door interrupts our lynching stares.  The young boy shows up holding a tray with the drinks Vic ordered. He places them on the tiny table.</p><p>I notice a doubtful look when he raises his eyes to me before leaving, I make a mental note at this, he might be useful later.</p><p>
  <em>“Come, sit here.”</em>
</p><p>I roll my eyes.  My feet move by themselves and soon I am where he is ordering me to be.  He hands me the glass of wine.</p><p>
  <em>“So, this is the story: At Kongsveien primary school there was a Norwegian state health campaign in which they had to screen all children under 7 for anemia. Little Thomas's sample was lost; remember?”</em>
</p><p>I don't answer, but I squeeze the glass in anger. I do remember the incident.</p><p><em>“Well, the sample ended up in one of my labs and it was compared to Hunt's blood”</em> He takes a sip of his drink - <em>“Where did I get the asshole’s blood? You might wonder. Well, let me tell you:  he left a considerable amount in one of my banks, where he was hurt, but ended up taking my diamonds, valued at 250 million dollars.”</em></p><p>Now everything starts to take shape: It is what I feared during these 4 years.</p><p>They finally found us, someone put the pieces together and now we are the heel of Achilles of the agent who makes the most dangerous criminals enraged.</p><p><em>“Let me guess, now you want them back”</em> - I say almost as a mockery.</p><p><em>“Well yes, dear Ilsa, I have some businesses that cannot wait, those diamonds were going to serve as payment to acquire some shiny warheads, which I was going to resell later obviously, because I am not a terrorist”</em> he paused. <em>“Darling, drink the wine.”</em></p><p>This man is disgusting but I choose to go along with him, for now. I bring the drink to my lips and take a considerable amount, perhaps to anesthetize myself, perhaps just for him to notice.</p><p>
  <em>“You understand that I am losing a lot of money and above all, credibility, because my buyers are now waiting for the goods for days. I needed Ethan to pay attention to me, tried without success.  Why would he care after all?  I'm just an unscrupulous businessman crying over some diamonds on the other side of the world.”</em>
</p><p>He drinks his entire glass and continues.</p><p><em>“Luckily enough, I have friends in the most unthinkable places. I made a convenient dinner invitation to someone the other day. I will not give them away but I will only say MI6</em>” - He laughs. – <em>“And they told me about you, the beautiful Ilsa and her love slips with the American agent of the moment. I investigated further and found out about the sweet fruit of your love, dear Thomas. And both living right here in Norway!”</em></p><p>I sense a change in his attitude and soon find out this man has a low emotional intelligence and zero anger management. He clenches his fists and a vein pops out on his neck.</p><p>
  <em>“Still, my luck ran out. I go searching for a little kid and his super spy mom manages to hide him from me!… I have a question, Ilsa: who is taking care of him when you are here? If I keep you long enough, will he starve? He's only 4 years old, right?”</em>
</p><p>I look down. A voice in my head whispers “he is right” to me.</p><p>He continues.</p><p>
  <em>“I want you to know that I am sending my men to your house again, so they can search without interruptions…”</em>
</p><p>He stands up and goes to the door.</p><p><em>No!</em> My inner voice screams. <em>We need more time</em>.  What can I say to make him give up on Thomas?</p><p><em>“You don't need him” </em>- I whisper.</p><p>
  <em>“Pardon?”</em>
</p><p>Make something up Ilsa, fast.</p><p><em>“I see the point of what you are trying to do… however; you don't need my son for your purposes. Ethan does not know that Thomas exists and has no ties to him whatsoever ... most likely he will doubt he is the father of my son. You only need me, USE ME ... He will feel that he must come ... Ethan makes everything his responsibility; he knows that this is his entire fault.   You do not need to give him any more reasons.” </em>I am shaking. </p><p>I drink what is left in the glass to ease my nerves and wait for my words to convince Vic. </p><p>If he finally decides to go for my son then I hope I am buying some time, enough so my message, which should have been sent when I pressed the red button in our hideout, could reach its destination.</p><p>If Ethan doesn't hate me that much, he should be arriving in Oslo in about 7 hours.  Please, let him be coming soon.</p><p>I continue.</p><p><em>“Do you know why I left him?“</em>- Now I'm pretending the wine is making me eloquent. – <em>“Because I couldn't bear to see how he put his stupid duty before our relationship. When I found out I was pregnant I knew I had to go because… my son would not be safe… I was right all this time and I have nothing but resentment in my heart for Ethan, because he didn’t go after us, he was never interested after all. If you need me to help you catch him ... I will. I will do everything for the love I have for my son… He is the only one that matters to me.”</em></p><p>Vic raises his bushy eyebrows and smiles.</p><p><em>“How easy it was for you to change sides, Ilsa, everything that is said in British intelligence about you must be true“-</em> he tells me as he approaches.</p><p><em>Idiot – </em>my mind says, while it reckons that his comment is a test.  I smile and look up at him because he is almost upon me. He puts his hand on mine.</p><p><em>“We have a deal?”</em> - I ask him.</p><p>He looks at me blankly, while I wonder what it will take to seal the agreement.</p><p>My question is answered instantly. He takes my arm and pulls me up, his face an inch from mine. Primitive and basic man, I realize.  Somehow, I know this specimen in front of me is not at all silly, is this the way he closes his business?</p><p>He takes a lock of hair and adjusts it behind my ear… his hand surrounds my head and I feel him pushing forward from the back of my neck.  His lips are brushing mine, soft at first but they are turning desperate. Instinctively I try to pull away but his hand pushes harder and grabs my hair. I feel another contact far below my back, lifting the dress. I urgently feel a need to hurt him but a voice screams at me - <em>Don't hit him Ilsa! don't hit him!</em>. Vic pulls his tongue out of my mouth, now I feel it again on my neck.  A sudden desire to empty all the contents of my stomach invades me.  <em>Be smart, there are times when you have to endure to win</em>, my head tells me.</p><p>Still I must stop him before it's too late. So I try to articulate some words…</p><p><em>“I'm afraid ... that even if you have Ethan in front of you... you have a tiny percentage of getting your diamonds back”</em> - I whisper in his ear.</p><p>I obtain what I want, he lets go of me, repelled by my words.</p><p>He turns away from me, probably searching for his drink but he finds an empty cup. I take the opportunity to clean his fluids from my mouth and neck, without him noticing.</p><p><em>“What do you mean?</em>”He talks, without facing me; he does not want me to see the bodily signs showing he was enjoying the moment.</p><p>
  <em>“He won't give them to you”</em>
</p><p><em>“But that’s where you come into play. Isn’t it?  You're going to give me a suggestion on how to act, right</em>?” His mocking tone makes me startle.</p><p>Am I getting him to leave my son alone? Or is he just playing around?</p><p>He turns around. I slowly nod.</p><p><em>“Everything is going to be ok then, you will bring him to me, and then you will grant me your advice to get what I want… After all, you know Ethan like the back of your hand.   Now, where were we?”- </em>He says as he approaches.</p><p>I need to get him away from me.</p><p><em>“I was going to let you know what Ethan is thinking right now. This information will decrease the chances of you ending up dead.” </em>I swallow.</p><p>He laughs aloud.  I feel disgust by him; his designer perfume has me dizzy.</p><p>
  <em>“Dear Ilsa, unless he has an army of 200 men I don't think he can come close, to me or this <strong>place</strong>.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You underestimate him; you are starting off on the wrong foot.  What is this <strong>place</strong>, by the way?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“A three-story bunker below the surface. Guarded by lots of men… if you feel like running away.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“And your great house above this hole, perfect and pristine, covering your crimes”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yes, but it has a spectacular view of the sea.”</em>
</p><p><em>Seaview</em>. Let's try to guess where this damn place is.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Those eyes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>ETHAN</strong>
</p><p>Ethan sensed his phone vibrating on his back pocket.</p><p>
  <em>“Hi Benji, what's up?” </em>
</p><p><em>“... Ethan ...”</em> A distressed tone escaped the british agent’s lips.</p><p><em>“Today, Benji”</em> Ethan said, recognizing that bad news were to follow.</p><p><em>“Where are you?”</em> - His British friend asked when he heard a loud roar on the background.</p><p>
  <em> “It doesn’t matter, I’ll tell you later. What's wrong, why did you call me?”</em>
</p><p><em>“I'm sending you a video right now” </em>- Ethan felt reluctance in his voice, as if Benji didn't want him to see it.</p><p>Ethan opened the link and watched. The camera moving erratically in a dark place. Just as the light is turned on, he sees an unconscious Ilsa, her face decorated with blood. She is lying on a bed and there are shadows moving around her. Laughs are heard. A hand appears and it gets under Ilsa's shirt, then another one touches her hair, seconds later they pull her by her clothes, managing to turn his immobile body, they are playing with her. The image disappears and a message shows:</p><p>
  <strong>To Ethan with consideration. Vic.</strong>
</p><p>Benji only hears Ethan's labored breathing. He would like to imagine his friend as a robot, emotionless, working out a complex plan to help Ilsa, which will eventually only work halfway through and the rest will have to be improvised.</p><p>However, he knows that Ethan is hurting right now, his feelings ranging from anger to guilt. Benji knows him so much that he is picturing him, struggling to think clearly, holding his emotions because this is the first time he sees Ilsa in years and the images couldn’t be worse.  Benji himself comprehends this well, because he is having the exact same feelings after observing his friend, the stoic and invincible Ilsa, so vulnerable. At the mercy of others.</p><p>“Ethan, buddy, the video arrived at the office’s mail five minutes ago. It's Vic Calos.  It has no further information, no address, no instructions. The secretary doesn't want to stick his nose in this. So it's just us; for a change.</p><p>I will manage the tickets to... well some part of Europe and we will surely have more information on the way.</p><p>
  <em>“Benji, I'm in Norway.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“How?…”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I'll explain later, I just need you to stay where you are, I’ll call you as soon as I have things cleared up.”</em>
</p><p>“But…”</p><p>Ethan hung up the phone, not having the strength to argue.  His rental car was waiting for him outside the airport.</p><p>He drove for the next 40 minutes, his head wandering between what he would do to Vic Calos as soon as he got his hands on him, what he would say to Ilsa when he found her, because he trusted he would and she was going to be alive.  And to think that he almost decided to ignore Ilsa’s call for help…</p><p>It was now 23:00 hrs. in Norway.  The video must be less than 24 hours old; it was probably taken early this morning, considering the six hours difference in time.</p><p>She must have sent the letter and the mail shortly before she was attacked. Most likely it was an automatic submission, triggered by the activation of some device. It means she had everything prepared and that she was expecting the worst or had some suspicion that something might happen to her. He felt admiration that turned to pain. What are you involved in, Ilsa?</p><p>The GPS spoke to him and he obeyed. He was a few meters from his destination. All this time absorbed in his thoughts, he did not realize what was around him, he parked very close to the gate, turned off the engine and got out of the car.</p><p>He found a place full of trees, the house in front of him was a one-story building, with a lake behind it, he could make out tiny lights to the right, probably from the closest neighbors. They must be a 10 minute-walk away, no wonder no one heard a thing.</p><p>Despite the darkness, it was easy to realize that it was a privileged place to live in, he could not help but think this could have been their home, if only she had allowed it.</p><p>He opened the white fence and followed the stone path. The front door seemed closed from afar, but he just had to push it open wide.</p><p>He instinctively reached for the light switch to his right and found it.  A living room like any other welcomed him, leather furniture and art on white walls.  Ilsa's scent suddenly hit his nose and the memory of him sinking his face into her golden hair flashed through his mind.</p><p>Dirty boot prints came into view all over the hardwood floor. As he went down a corridor he kicked something, a toy car slid and hit the wall. Ethan picked it up and noticed that the room also had some elements that he did not expect in that place. A mini bicycle and a rag doll.</p><p>He made his way to a particular wall; it had pictures hanging on it.  One picture of Ilsa and an older man, her father without a doubt. The next photo was of her with a baby in her arms and underneath in running letters he could read "Thomas". In the third photo he saw a boy looking directly at the camera. Ethan felt goose bumps rise under his sweater.  Those eyes…</p><p>Reality fell on him like a lightning: Ilsa has a son.</p><p>Despite the shock and consternation that fell on his shoulders, Ethan continued walking noiselessly and came to the place where there used to be a door and now remained only a hole and lots of rubble.</p><p>He walked in and recognized the place where the video was taken. Blood on the bed, blood on the carpet. A syringe between the sheets, a teddy bear propped up on the pillow. He checked the right the side of the bed and there were some regular-size slippers.  Then he moved his head slightly to see the left side, some small slippers on the floor. In the video there were no traces of the boy, where is he then? He was clearly sleeping here before the assault.</p><p>Ethan looked under the bed, an obvious place but he had to rule it out.  His head recreated the attack:  She was sleeping and heard someone trespassing her house, she had to hide the little one somewhere or take him out. Ethan went to the window and tried to open it, it was stuck, but as soon as he could unlock it he realized that it did not open more than 6 inches. It was not possible a child could fit.</p><p>So she hid him here. If she did, they must have found him and he was taken too.</p><p>Still he walked into the corridor on the right, the walking closet. Ilsa stated in her message that Ethan should come here, so he was determined to search out the place. He began to remove all the clothes that were hanging in with vague hope of finding a hidden sleepy child.</p><p>Ethan did not find him but what he did notice there was a gap in the wall in one of the corners. He bent down and removed the false wall. A panel and a hatch, a safe - he thought. Six digits. 191083… and the lock clicked. Turned the knob and the door opened. Her birthday, difficulty level -1, however she made sure that it could be opened without a problem, by the right person.</p><p>It wasn't a safe, it was a duct.  He crouched down, began to crawl and slid down the ramp.</p><p>He couldn't have been less prepared for what he saw.</p><p>Ilsa's son was on a little bed in the corner, Ethan approached and saw his chest rise and fall, that meant he was sleeping.  He preferred not to wake him up:  he had no clue on what to do with the kid.</p><p>He looked around, that place was very cozy for a child of his age, toys, books, a TV. He opened the minibar and found snacks, cheese, chips, fruit, water, vegetables. Choices from a dedicated mother, clearly the child opt for less healthy options, judging by the wraps on the floor.</p><p>A large book was placed on a small table. Ethan squatted down and opened it. It was a photo album, full of pictures.  Page after page, photos of the boy and some of his mother. Ethan came to smile to see her happy and beautiful as always. He became perplexed when he arrived to a particular photo.</p><p>It was him. Ethan's face in black and white filled the entire page.</p><p>He remembered the moment it was taken, using his own professional camera. It was a rainy afternoon and he was preparing some mojitos for both of them. Ilsa walked into the kitchen, barefoot and with her hair tied into a bun. He realized that she was there by the exquisite aroma that emanated from her.  He turned around and the camera shutter clicked.</p><p>Distant laughs...</p><p>Immersed in his memories, he did not realize that someone had woken up.</p><p>His little feet led him to the agent's side, Ethan turned to the boy.</p><p>
  <em>“She told me you'd come for me, but it took you a long time.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Thomas… right?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yes, Thomas Faust.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Did she tell you I'd come? Do you know who I am?”</em>
</p><p>Ethan held up his photo for Thomas to see.</p><p>
  <em>“Yes, mom tells me stories. I tell her they cannot all be true. You are not Superman.”</em>
</p><p>Ethan managed a sad smile.</p><p>
  <em>“Do you know what happened to your mom?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I think she left with those people. They came into our house.  She told me it was not a training session this time, usually she comes back soon and then we eat ice cream but today it wasn't like that… that's why I did what she taught me… well almost everything… don't tell her I haven't brushed my teeth.”</em>
</p><p><em>“Don't worry”</em> - Ethan winked at him.</p><p>Ethan took his phone out and dialed.</p><p><em>“Benji, hi. Yes, I came to her house. No… But I found something else… Yes please, I need you on the first flight tomorrow. And… bring Jane.”</em> - He hung up.</p><p>
  <em>“Thomas, we have to leave. You must bring some things.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“My backpack is here, it's ready.”</em>
</p><p>Everything was highly calculated by Ilsa. Her preparation is amazing.</p><p><em>“Now… How are we going to climb this ramp?”</em> - Ethan said; thinking he would have to carry Thomas all the way up.</p><p>
  <em>“Don't worry, dad, I'll teach you.”</em>
</p><p>The world froze. The boy was already upstairs and calling him to come up ... Dad ... He never thought he would hear that word coming out from anyone's mouth…referring to him.</p><p>Thomas disappeared down the duct and Ethan managed to climb up despite the stupor.</p><p>Once outside, he looked for the boy and did not find him. It was only seconds he had him out of sight… kids were incredibly sneaky.</p><p><em>“Thomas?”</em> – he called out as he crossed the threshold.</p><p>He saw them.</p><p>A man was holding Thomas, covering his mouth with one hand, and carrying a knife dangerously close to the boy's stomach with the other.</p><p>
  <em>“Hunt, we're going for a walk.”</em>
</p><p>At that moment, Ethan felt fear. Terror of losing the child who at that moment was helpless in the hands of a criminal, and a minute before had called him Dad. IIsa would not have lied to the little boy about who his real father was; she was not capable of that... And finding his own eyes transferred into Thomas's face almost like using a tracing paper, confirmed that he had a son.</p><p>
  <em>“Let go of the child and we will go wherever you want.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“That is not an option, so I need you to be more agile and go out that door, straight to your car.”</em>
</p><p>Ethan walked and passed six feet from them with his hands up without taking his eyes off Thomas. For a brief moment, he thought he saw something in the boy's expression and had a familiar feeling that brought him back to when Ilsa and him agreed silently with a nod. Back then, everyone around them failed to notice it.   It was astonishing how they understood each other perfectly.</p><p>Ethan soon learned that he was right about Thomas sending him a message.  The kid bit his captor's hand, so hard that when he released it there was a trickle of blood flowing from it, he managed to get the man to drop him on the floor, and then he twisted himself violently as children do during a tantrum, to get him to release his arm. Ethan reached over, grabbed the man's head and slammed it against his knee, knocking him unconscious.</p><p>He picked up Thomas and carried him to his car. Ethan looked around as he closed the car door.  </p><p>It was only one man; there was no one else there.</p><p>A man to pick up a child, a simple mission, they did not take into account that Superman was going to be there to defend him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Dad</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This is a mini - chapter but I am planning to upload the entire story tonight... hopefully :S</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>That hotel room provoke an outburst of euphoria on Thomas.  It made Ethan think whether Ilsa ever took the little boy on vacation. Or outside their home at least.  Then considered the probability of normal kids behaving like this… all the time.</p><p>Ethan just sat on the bed with his forearms resting on his knees and watched Thomas for several minutes as the kid danced around, ran, crawled and squealed.   A painful uncertainty aroused in his mind, he really did not know what to do with that little boy.</p><p>It was obvious Thomas felt very comfortable having the agent around and it was natural to him to call him “Dad” as he did every 30 seconds. Ethan's hair stood on end every time, he didn't seem to be getting used to the word.</p><p>Do I have to feel love for him right away? He thought.  Thomas was his child, he had no doubt about it, but why is it that his mind and heart are not embracing the idea spontaneously? Am I some kind of monster?   The only feeling he reckons inside him is a profound need to protect the kid.  A calm inner voice states “That’s a start”.</p><p><em>“Dad, aren’t you going to change on to your pajamas…dad?</em> - Thomas asked once he calmed down.</p><p><em>“I don't wear pajamas”.</em> Ethan answered and sounded coldly. He regretted it immediately.</p><p><em>“Oh… and can we eat something?”</em> - Thomas continued.</p><p><em>“There are things in the minibar, you can have whatever you want”</em> - he pointed to the refrigerator while he unlocked his cell phone.</p><p>
  <em>“I want soup”</em>
</p><p>Ethan smiled. At least he lets you know what he needs to be happy, he thought while picking up the hotel phone.</p><p><em>“Hello?</em>” - He spoke to the receiver – <em>“Yes, a chicken soup, with vegetables and croutons aside, thank you.”</em></p><p><em>“How did you know that was my favorite?”</em> the little boy asked, while opening everything that had doors or drawers in the room.</p><p><em>“I guessed”</em> - Ethan said.</p><p>It was good memory rather than just guessing, Ilsa made a fantastic chicken soup.</p><p>Ilsa… What am I doing here, I am supposed to be getting her out, he thought. How can I do that if that Calos has not sent his terms, the only obvious thing was that he wanted his diamonds back.</p><p>Ethan stood still for several minutes. Now he understood why she left.  She was pregnant and thought their kid would represent the perfect target and Ethan's ultimate weakness.</p><p>She was right.</p><p>However, she also believed that Ethan would not choose them over his job, and she was wrong there. Why wouldn’t she considered asking him?  Surely, she guessed what the answer would be after learning what happened to Julia some time ago, but that did not give her the right to decide for both of them.  He was suddenly raging.</p><p>Luckily, his mind took him to the Ilsa he saw in the video, and a different feeling filled his heart: he feared for her.   He shook his head and tried to convinced himself that she was a strong woman indeed and capable of defending herself.   She knew she had to be smart and weigh their options, leave impulses aside…The only fact that was giving Ethan a little ease is the certainty of Ilsa being the best at using the head and locking feelings out.</p><p>He got rid of his thoughts because he noticed he was being watched, there was his son. The same eyes that Ethan looked in the mirror every morning were drawn on that sweet little freckled face (the freckles inherited from his mother).</p><p>He could not deny that he saw a lot of himself in Thomas.  And clearly the boy was having the same concerns judging from the question he posed.</p><p><em>“Is my mom going to be okay? Will she be back?”</em> - Ethan felt unsteadiness in the kid's voice.</p><p><em>“Your mom will be with you soon.”</em> He tried to reassure him.</p><p>The boy smiled slightly. He had unpacked his pajamas and was starting to put them on.</p><p>Ethan sensed that Thomas was finally becoming conscious of the situation so he approached him and squatted down just as Thomas's head appeared at the collar of the garment.</p><p>
  <em>“Thomas, your mother has not left voluntarily; they have taken her against her will. Don't ever think she abandoned you, ok? ... I am going to be by your side, you are not alone…And I'm going to bring your mom back.”</em>
</p><p>The kid nodded.</p><p>
  <em>“Do you love her? She’s always telling me she loves you and that she misses you.”</em>
</p><p>Ethan was amazed at how easy and natural the following statement came out of his mouth.</p><p>
  <em>“I love her so much, Thomas.”</em>
</p><p>The boy threw his arms around his father’s neck and sobbed a little.  Then he felt warm enough to smile.</p><p>Ethan accepted this first contact hesitantly.  Yet, for a moment, he felt Ilsa’s presence so strong and so vivid in that innocent hug… He couldn’t do anything else but close his arms tight around Thomas.</p><p>This was his son. He was half Ilsa and half him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Bergen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>ILSA’S POV</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>August 14th, 2022 - Somewhere in Norway, One of Vic's houses, overlooking the sea.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>My internal clock tells me it’s morning already and it’s been about 20 hours since I last saw Calos.</p><p>I haven’t been able to sleep. My eyes are longing for recovery but somehow my mind is not giving them that option.</p><p>Suddenly the door opens and I jump up.</p><p>I see the scarred young man from yesterday, the same one who does not seem to belong to this hideous place.  He has a tray of stuff that smell delicious… I want coffee.</p><p><em>“Thank you”</em> I speak with a consciously low voice.   Enough to get him to look at me.</p><p>He leaves the tray on the table.</p><p>
  <em>“You are very kind; can I ask you a question?”</em>
</p><p><em>“I'm not authorized to speak to you”</em> - He whispers back.</p><p><em>“I understand”</em> I tell him as I approach the food <em>“Is there any sugar?”</em></p><p><em>“Yes”.</em> He answers quickly.</p><p><em>“Is Bergen butter good?”</em> And I look at him with pleading eyes.</p><p>I get a shocked expression in return.</p><p><em>“Yes”</em> - He whispers and looks down at the floor.</p><p><em>“Cream?”</em>  I ask him and I turn my eyes towards the door.</p><p>
  <em>“No, but I brought 5 muffins, they are always available.”</em>
</p><p>I make a mental note: Five men outside my room. Isn't it excessive?</p><p>He pretends to drop a napkin.</p><p><em>“Do not try anything miss”</em> he advices as he gets up. <em>“It is better that you collaborate; he does not hurt anyone who helps.”</em></p><p>He turns around and hurries out.</p><p>We are in Bergen then, of all the possibilities this seemed the most feasible to me… this information will help.</p><p>I am about to put coffee into my system when I hear movement and shouting outside. I fear for the boy, have they noticed our exchange?</p><p>The door opens wide.</p><p>It's Vic, combed, neat, and reeking of his designer perfume. Instantly I am conscious of myself: Disheveled, red eyes and black bags under them, surely. He strides closer.</p><p>He stares at me, clearly trying to calm himself down. I wonder what had unsettled him this way. The same vein from yesterday is popping out of his neck. </p><p><em>“Ilsa, you said you were going to lead Ethan to me”.</em> He finally speaks, half smiling. His right hand reaches for my cheek.</p><p><em>“I did”. </em> I can’t refrain myself from flinching away. </p><p>
  <em>“And you told me he did not know about Thomas. Right?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yes”</em>
</p><p>He stares at nothing over my shoulder. One of his fingers strokes my neck and starts its way down. </p><p>Something is off.</p><p>All of the sudden and unexpectedly, the back of his hand connects with my cheek.</p><p>The priceless cup of coffee slips from my hands and crashes to the ground.</p><p>I stagger and take two steps back.</p><p>I have an urge to hurt this idiot. I know I should stop and think about my options, “You need to calm down Ilsa”…  Not this time…  As I regain stability, I pull up my right leg and I hit him on the neck.  He's shocked.</p><p>I do not see a reaction from him, which gives me time to hit him on the stomach using the same leg, and he bends forward. My fist is going straight to his face, which is already at an affordable height for me. He doesn’t even block it, the punch brings him to the ground.  </p><p>The door opens once again and two gorillas make their appearance.  I move back and grab the metal tray laying on the table.  I manage to stop one guy with it, using it as a shield first and then burying one of its edges into his stomach.</p><p>I hear Vic yelling from the floor, his face all red from the blood emanating from his nose. I hope it is shattered. </p><p>Two more men come in and now I know I made a mistake.</p><p>They overpower me.  I am instantly laying on the floor face down, with a foot pressing my back.</p><p>A hand pulls up my hair and they force me on my feet.</p><p>Vic is facing me, nothing but rage on his eyes.  His hands surround my neck and squeezes.</p><p>I am not breathing.</p><p>I am not breathing.</p><p>My nails scratch his hands but he doesn't seem to care, I see uncontrollable anger in his expression as I fight against the approaching darkness.</p><p>I … do… not…</p><p>I lose the battle against unconsciousness.</p><hr/><p> </p><p>When I open my eyes I'm lying on the floor and Vic's face greets me to reality.</p><p><em>“Stand up”</em> - He shouts.</p><p>It takes me a minute to get my lumbers to obey, and I do as he tells me.</p><p>
  <em>“Can you explain how Ethan learned where to find the boy, the one he knew nothing about?”</em>
</p><p>These are the best news I received in my whole life.  Ethan got to Thomas first!</p><p> I take a deep breath and despite the pain on my neck, I start laughing.   I can’t stop.</p><p>I see Calos and his face is red with anger.  I must gather myself together soon or I will earn another beating, but this is my son we are talking about, he is the reason I live for, he is why I made the most difficult decision of my life.</p><p>He is safe now.</p><p>Ethan has him.</p><p>Thomas is with Ethan, safe.</p><p>Reality hits me once again, I have been wrong all this time.  Thomas was about to get hurt, even with Ethan away.  Someone tried to harm him and the only hope we had was his father being around.  Life is showing me that I blew it, big time.</p><p>Vic stares at me in amazement as I go from laughter to tears almost in a trance state.</p><p><em>“Your plan worked”</em> He takes me by the jaw – <em>“Even so I will regain what belongs to me ... I will give Ethan something that he does not expect, the pleasure of raising his son…alone. You will help me like you said, but after that ...” </em>His finger traces my neck…<em> “Let’s make a video for him, shall we?”</em></p><p>He storms out of the room.</p><p>I couldn’t care less about his threats now, the idiot went looking for my son and didn't find him.  I can finally say “mission accomplished”.</p><p>Now Vic is threatening me, which is a sign of his despair.  Ethan would have him begging for his life in no time if they faced each other.  The question is: Do I really want Ethan to come for me?  What if he gets… killed… what if we both die…  Thomas would be alone.   I think I should start thinking the way out, on my own.</p><p>An abrupt noise startle me.   Metal against metal, one bang, another one, and it gets rhythmic. I can’t help it, a shiver goes through my whole body in one second.</p><p>Four men enter the room.  My heart shrinks and I close my eyes, suddenly feeling drained.</p><p>I’ve prepared for this, for ten years.</p><p>During continuous training in intelligence agencies, you’re faced with unconceivable situations in order to get competence in each scenario. I have being prepared to defend myself and also to turn myself off in case I cannot get out of the situation and the only way is to endure and live through.   </p><p>You just hope the occasion to use such skill would never come.</p><p>They have metal bars in their hands and ghoulish smiles on their lips. A camera is placed in a corner, it is clear that there is going to be a show and I will not enjoy it.  The intended video recipient won’t like it either.</p><p>Here they come, I understand that defending myself is vital.</p><p>One of them approaches, swings his metal weapon, I get into position. First hit, I dodge it, second too. Then I connect my fist with his stomach. I have years of not training professionally, I am surprised because I can still do this with enough agility.</p><p>Another one is already next to me. He raises the bar and drops it three seconds too late as I move to the right to avoid it. Another man approaches, the two of them can easily shatter me.  A bar falls on my shoulder; I hear a horrible crack and immediate pain. I scream and fall to my knees.</p><p>This is not going to end well.</p><p>One more swing and a bar connects to my face, knocking me to the floor.</p><p>I get up immediately with all the strength I have. My right arm dangles on my side. I just have to block the blows with my left one. I ask my legs for help, the strongest one manages to kick one guy in the head and the other in the chest.</p><p>Two more are coming. Am I buying time? Would it be better for me to lie on the floor curled up and covering my vital organs?</p><p>I am too proud for that.</p><p>My body is ready for the blows. A bar goes directly to my face but I manage to stop it with my left forearm, one man pushes me back and I fall on the bed. He throws himself on me.  They take my arms.</p><p>I close my eyes.</p><p>I jerk around and hope to hit someone with my legs. But they take them.</p><p>No…</p><p>No…</p><p>They hit me in the stomach and chest, once, twice, three, countless times. I recreate the scene in my mind as if I were looking at it from behind; I can't help but see myself as a rag doll or a piñata.</p><p>The hitting stops.</p><p>Silence.</p><p>I feel his hands on my legs and I squirm.  The cold metal meets my thighs.</p><p>My hands curl into fists.  Shutting down system in 3..2..1.</p><p>...</p><p>…</p><p>However, nothing happens ... They are letting me loose, I open my eyes and see them leave, letting me know with gestures that they would have preferred to continue.</p><p>The show is over.</p><p>I only hope Vic does not come upon the message I just sent to competent eyes.</p><p>The last thing I want is a retake.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Carbon copy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The team walked in the hotel room carrying briefcases and boxes, 30% of the total equipment; the other toys were left in the van down at the parking lot.</p><p>They were definitely not expecting what they encounter inside that room.</p><p>A boy, playing on the floor with some tiny cars. Ethan nowhere to be seen.</p><p>They could have easily mistaken the room number; they mumbled an apology and turned their backs to leave.</p><p>
  <em>“Hi guys! Welcome.” </em>
</p><p>The team stopped in their tracks.  They turned to see Ethan coming out of the shower with a towel around his waist.</p><p>He pointed to the chairs for them to take a seat, while rubbing his hair.</p><p>They took two steps forward and stood in line, Luther, Benji and Jane, waiting for the explanation that was taking too long to come.</p><p>Jane did not hold back and approached the boy, knelt down and looked at him. Thomas smiled at her and handed her a toy car. Jane took it with her mouth open. Then she turned her eyes to Ethan.</p><p><em>“He is a carbon copy of you”</em> the agent said.</p><p><em>“His name is Thomas and he is…” </em>Ethan spoke, beginning to explain.</p><p><em>“Your son”</em> Benji interrupted him.</p><p><em>“And Ilsa’s”</em> Luther finished the sentence.</p><p>Ethan nodded and that was the authorization his friends needed:  Benji knelt down and patted the boy's head.</p><p>
  <em>“Hello buddy, I am your uncle Benji.”</em>
</p><p>Then Luther approached and without a warning, picked up Thomas and hugged him tight.</p><p>
  <em>“I'm your Uncle Luther.”</em>
</p><p><em>“You look like a bear.”</em>  Thomas said, barely able to breathe.</p><p>They all laughed.</p><hr/><p> </p><p><em>“Vic Calos is a very prominent businessman in the Nordic countries. He has at least 30 properties in Norway alone, I have all the addresses.”</em> Benji began.</p><p><em>“Ilsa could be in any of them.”</em> Ethan said.</p><p>They all noticed a note of despair in their friend's voice.</p><p><em>“Or none”</em> Luther replied <em>“She could even be in a bunker in the woods, as far as we know. We tried to look for Calos, tracing his face in airports, seaports, public spaces. Nothing came up.  He’s been shielded by powerful entities.” </em></p><p><em>“Corruption in high places” </em>Jane stated.</p><p>They looked at each other wondering what the next step should be; Vic wasn't giving them anything to work with. He wanted his diamonds back, that was a certainty, but these were already in an American safe box.  So it was a matter of making him believe they had them and performing a retrieval or breaking in to get Ilsa out and hope for the best.   Both options were already well known to the team, but they really needed to know where they were going.</p><p>Why was Vic taking so long to give them a hint?</p><p>All four's computers biped at the same time. They all registered a new message in their mailboxes.</p><p>A video.</p><p>They gathered around Ethan's machine. Thomas was watching TV with his headphones on, so they were able to play the audio without a problem.</p><p>The images passed one by one, Ilsa as the main character.  Benji rolled his eyes in different directions to avoid watching when things got too hard. Luther was huffing with anger. Ethan just stared at the screen and didn't dare take his eyes off it.</p><p>The blows were brutal, Ilsa was able to defend herself until her shoulder was broken. And then all those bars connecting to her stomach, he wished death to all those cowards.</p><p>Ethan stood up as soon as the video stopped.  He walked slowly to the bathroom.</p><p>Once inside, he wet his face, the mirror showed him fatigue in his eyes.   He replayed the images in his head and had to contain the urge to run out, to Ilsa.   It has only been hours since he arrived in Norway but it felt like weeks and he has done nothing to get her back. He wouldn't forgive himself if he lost her.</p><p>After 15 minutes Ethan ventured out.</p><p><em>“We still don't know where she is.”</em> he said, almost to himself as he entered the room again.</p><p><em>“You're wrong Ethan.”</em> Benji said. <em>“Luther just decode the message Ilsa sent us.”</em></p><p><em>“What, what message?”</em> - Ethan rushed over to his friends.</p><p><em>“If you focus on her hands, Benji zoom in please ... here, while in bed Ilsa is moving her fingers…you know… like typing.  It is Morse code, the index for points, the ring finger for lines, in the short time she had she sent us her location”</em> - Jane showed him a paper with the message: "Bergen"</p><p>
  <em>“Bergen.”</em>
</p><p>The team went back to their computers to gather information on Vics property in Bergen but were soon interrupted by Ethan's cell phone, it was ringing. A private number insisted. He answered and put it on speaker.</p><p><em>“Hunt” </em>He desperately hoped for the caller to be Vic. But it wasn't him who spoke.</p><p><em>“Ethan”</em> A woman’s whisper.</p><p><em>“Ilsa?”</em> The agent heard an almost silent gasp in the receiver, as if she was suppressing it.</p><p><em>“Ilsa!”</em> He called her again, almost screaming.</p><p><em>“Take care of our son…”</em> Ethan heard a blow followed by Ilsa's moan.</p><p>Then a man's voice in the background.</p><p>
  <em>“Dear Ilsa, you must do what you’ve been told, do not improvise ... come on, tell him ...”</em>
</p><p>There were 5 seconds of silence and then he heard her voice.</p><p>
  <em>“Vasstun 4, Odda - 6pm ... Just you and the diamonds ... Ethan, I'll be dead by then, forget it, don't go!”</em>
</p><p> A gasp… and then just the beep - beep - beep of a dead line.</p><p>They all noticed how his friend’s face went from hatred to emptiness in just two seconds. That made them uneasy.</p><p>Luther returned to his computer and started typing fiercely, eager to get all the information they needed to build up a plan. They now had a tip on the "where".</p><p>He only raised his head to adress his friend.</p><p>
  <em>“Benji, please tell me you brought the satellite drones”.</em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p><em>“I wish I could be of more help.”</em> Jane told Ethan, who was physically sitting in the chair in front of her, but miles away inside his head.</p><p>Agent Carter's job this time was to babysit and she was apparently doing a good job as Thomas had fallen asleep in her arms.</p><p>
  <em>“Jane, believe me, the fact that you are the one who’s taking care of Thomas is the only thing I am confident about right now.”</em>
</p><p>She ran her fingers through the boy's hair.</p><p>
  <em>“He's the sweetest and smartest boy I've ever met, Ilsa did a great job.”</em>
</p><p>Ethan smiled but Jane read self-distrust in his face.</p><p>
  <em>“You'll do a very good job too. If you decide to be in his life that is.”</em>
</p><p><em>“Yes, I will there for him of course.  It's just… I don't know…  He called me Dad 3 minutes after we met, and so far, I haven't been able to call him son.  Do I see myself taking care of a child?  No! My head screams it is an impossible mission… I don't think I'm competent”</em> – Ethan was surprised at his own words and the sincerity they carried.</p><p>Jane looked down to the beautiful boy she had in her lap. Then smiled.</p><p>
  <em>“Fatherhood is not something that comes naturally, you know?  It might be easier for women, as it is supposed to be in our genes. But all men have to learn to love these small creatures.  So do not feel guilty; love is a decision, not a feeling. If you decide to love him, you will learn the little tasks easily.”</em>
</p><p>Ethan nodded slightly, it made sense; her words really sank in.</p><p>Luther stood up and took his backpack.  “We need to get going, Odda is a two-hour drive from here.”</p><p>Ethan approached they boy and put a hand on his head.</p><p><em>“Wait for me, little one”</em> - he whispered.</p><p>Then the three male agents left the room.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>ILSA’S POV</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Vic’s house in Bergen – 6:00 pm.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>My head is about to explode, fever burns and I can't stop shaking.</p><p>I'm sitting on the floor, I don't feel like standing or moving to a more comfortable place.</p><p>I cough and cover my mouth with the sleeve of my sweater. I don't want to take a look at it because the last time I spat more blood.  I know what that means: Some of the blows must have broken my ribs and they have pierced an organ or two.</p><p>I have an infection, the fever and the fact I am coughing up blood confirm my condition. Time is not my friend, if I don’t get medical care I'll die soon, it gets as simple as that.</p><p>My son.  I will not be there for him.   </p><p>Ethan… I wish I could convince him that it no longer makes sense; he will put himself in danger for a corpse. What will happen to Thomas if his mom and dad die tonight?</p><p>I am not sure at which point Vic came in, but he is standing right there in front of me.</p><p><em>“Look what they did to you” </em>I sense disgust in his voice.</p><p>I grunt as a response.</p><p>
  <em>“I told them to be measured but convincing, I think they overdid things. That happens when I don’t give them action for a few weeks.” </em>
</p><p>He shakes his head from side to side then squats down and touches my face.</p><p>
  <em>“I'd send you to a doctor, but I think it won’t be of much help.  What a shame, in another life I would have liked to know you better. You are one of a kind.”</em>
</p><p>I really don't have the strength to come back at him.  I am not freaking sure he's even there. Everything is so confusing.</p><p>A phone rings.</p><p><em>“Ok, Hunt’s there then, good…Alone? Curious… Proceed with the exchange; do I really have to tell you everything?”</em> Vic’s upset and loud voice reverberates inside my ears.</p><p>Is it 6 pm already?  Why are we here and not in Odda? How does Vic think he would make Ethan return the diamonds if I am not there for the exchange?</p><p>An ambush.  They will shoot their way to the diamonds.</p><p>Vic continues.</p><p><em>“Confirm as soon as we have the diamonds in our possession</em>” he turns the speaker on and brings the phone near me.   <em>“Got them boss”</em> someone says.  Vic grins, his eyes not leaving mine… <em>“Shoot to kill”.</em>  A roar of gunfire is heard on the other end.</p><p>Vic hungs up.</p><p>“You see, I considered your advice.  Ethan never got the chance to come close to me; I couldn’t risk it if he was as lethal as you said.</p><p>“Coward” I manage to whisper.</p><p>
  <em>“I don’t mind being a coward.  I am a businessman…” </em>
</p><p>I exhale with a moan.  It must have sound really bad, cause I get a glimpse of Vic’s alarmed face, he surely thinks I am going to die right there.</p><p>
  <em>“Ilsa, dear, I am sorry but we must get you out of here, I can't let anyone die inside my property.”</em>
</p><p>He turns and addresses one of his men.</p><p>
  <em>“You… leave her in a dump.”</em>
</p><p>The man takes me by the arms; my shoulder protests and the motion is too much for my body to resist.</p><p>Luckily, the pain vanishes…I don’t feel anything now.</p><p>Unconsciousness is merciful.</p><p> </p><hr/><p><strong>VIC’S HOUSE - BERGEN, 6:15 pm</strong>.</p><p>
  
</p><p><em>“I'm already connected to the inside cameras” </em>- Benji announces in the earpiece.</p><p><em>“OK, I’m listening.”</em> says the team leader, waiting for his friend's instructions to move.</p><p>
  <em>“You have two at the front door and two more inside. The service door is on the right. I will open it for you in 30 seconds.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Copy that.”</em>
</p><p>The agent moves to the indicated direction. He rushes past and slips through the steel door on the side of the house.</p><p>
  <em>“You have a clear path up to the middle of the second corridor. There are no cameras there, strangely enough, so I’m blind. You will be on your own from there.   Let's review: There are stairs to the right.  Take them and go down three floors. On the right, you will find a ramp that takes you to three doors. You’ll have to make a guess; I don't think it will be difficult, she must have people guarding her. Unless it's a concentration camp down there and all the Suites are taken...”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Benji, I’m on my way.”</em>
</p><p>Ethan walked the path, hiding a couple of times between hallways to avoid some unaware men.</p><p>He reached the three-door corridor and immediately knew where Ilsa was, four men were outside the door and it was open.</p><p>He stayed hidden assessing the situation.</p><p>After a few minutes, the guards stepped aside to let a gorilla through.  He was carrying a bundle with long hair.</p><p>Ethan lowered his eyes for a second, hoping, for Vic's sake, that this woman was still breathing.</p><p>Then he saw the idiot coming out of the room, chuckling as he checked his mobile.</p><p>They would collide with Ethan in a few seconds, so he decided to come out of hiding, pointing his gun at them.</p><p>The guards immediately armed themselves and took aim at the agent.</p><p>Vic dropped his jaw almost to the floor. It took him several seconds to react to this absurd scenario.  </p><p><em>“You are supposed to be dead”</em> he managed to say.</p><p>
  <em>“Yeah…and discarded 3 miles from here, right?” Calos, you really need to upgrade your security and get more qualified men.”</em>
</p><p><em>“You were there! We shot you.” </em>He mumbled.</p><p>
  <em>“At least my face was. However, your men didn’t notice the guy there was twice bigger and, as far as I know, the shooting didn’t come from your side. Did you check?</em>
</p><p>Luther had been the wild card. He was probably on his way back from Odda, with a grin on his face. Never thought he’d be able to play Ethan so well.  The drones had worked perfectly fine shooting Vic’s men down, with a tiny delay, Luther might state that just to teasingly discredit Benji’s maneuver on the aircrafts.</p><p><em>“My diamonds…” </em>Whispered Vic.</p><p><em>“Perfect carved glass.” </em>Ethan replied.</p><p>Vic lowered his eyes to regain composure. Things didn’t go as planned, however, after assessing this current situation, he couldn’t help but notice he had the upper hand. Ethan was there alone and Vic had five men backing him up, just on this floor. About 60 inside the house.  This made him have a change of attitude. He could get his diamonds back after all; he was going to beat them out of Hunt if necessary.  </p><p>He noticed the glances Ethan was giving to the unconscious Ilsa.</p><p><em>“Do you want her back?  She is a little bit damaged; I made a very good use of her.”</em>  He said while placing his hand on the former spy's forehead, then gently lacing his fingers with her golden hair.</p><p>Witnessing that kind of contact lighted up Ethan’s most barbarian instincts.</p><p><em>“Your diamonds, do you want to know where they are?</em>  He told him, trying to divert attention away from Ilsa.</p><p>Vic raised his eyebrowns.</p><p>
  <em>“Naturally”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“They are in a vault somewhere… west coast… In North America I mean.”</em>
</p><p><em>“Well, If that’s the game you want to play…let's get this over with.”</em>  Calos gave a sign to the big man holding Ilsa.</p><p>Considering the fragility of her body, the man could break her neck at any moment. The timing was perfect because Ilsa’s lips produced a moan and she started to move.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Eradicating Scourge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>ILSA’S POV</p>
<p>In the same place, at the same moment.</p>
<p>I am feeling his warm hands on my face; I want his touch to last forever. Ethan strokes my cheek and laughs at something; perhaps some secret we both share. He kisses me, his fingers tangling in my hair. He is the one; I knew it from the moment I met him in that London basement.</p>
<p>Nevertheless, good times don’t last long.  Everything turns gray around us and his kiss become persistent, my wrists get squeezed by his fingers, his nails dig into my skin and then he bites my lips. I manage to open my eyes and I find Vic smirking at me, a trickle of my blood running down the corner of his mouth.</p>
<p>The physical pain shows up again and welcomes me to reality. I am not in the last place I remember, on the floor of my cell. My eyes open to find a very intense light upon my head; I realized I’m suspended in the air. I fix my gaze and make out a face, it’s one of Vic's idiots holding me up, impregnating all his sewer smell on me.</p>
<p>My shoulder hurts too much, but I try to stir to make him drop me.</p>
<p>He lets me fall but before my face hits the ground, he grabs my arms and turns them over my back to immobilize me. My shoulder creaks and I can't help screaming, so loud that I was surprised by the sound that left my mouth. Dizziness comes upon me.</p>
<p>After the world stops spinning, I realize that Mr. Sewer and I are not alone. Vic is on my left and… Ethan is in front of me, his face contorted.</p>
<p>Am I dreaming? Is he really there?  It takes me several seconds to react.</p>
<p><em>“I asked you not to come”</em> I achieve to say, instantly hating myself for choosing to be an asshole on our first encounter in years.</p>
<p><em>“Well ... I would like to be anywhere else, that’s for sure</em>” He replies.</p>
<p>I am glad to see him, I really am, but who's going to take care of Thomas? I told him not to come and he just had to... A roller coaster of emotions hits me; the fever is not letting me think clearly.</p>
<p>
  <em>“All right, if you have finished greeting each other, I suggest you put your gun down Hunt, as you stated my men can be a little clumsy and it wouldn't be my fault they fired theirs.”</em>
</p>
<p>Ethan complies and throws his gun to the floor.</p>
<p><em>“Now back to the diamonds”</em> Vic says.</p>
<p>I see Ethan raising his shoulders mockingly; he is trying to push Vic’s temper to the limit.</p>
<p><em>“Talk to your friends, Hunt! I am sure they are listening right now. Send for my diamonds!”</em> Vic is at the edge of losing it.</p>
<p>Ethan looks at me and I immediately know what’s next. I blink in acceptance cause I trust him, I’ve always have.</p>
<p><em>“You won't have them.  So you can kill us both right now. Two lives that will have to be sacrificed for millions.” </em>Ethan states.</p>
<p>I'm two feet from Vic and I think I feel his temperature rise.</p>
<p>Suddenly I hear the familiar sound of a gun cocking and one second later my skin registers cold metal pressing against my temple.</p>
<p>
  <em>“You will not die, Hunt. I'll shoot her and then I'll get your son. You have 5 seconds; I want to hear you send for my diamonds right now. Five…”</em>
</p>
<p>I'm about to pass out, not even the adrenaline that flutters in my veins can keep me awake, at least I won't be conscious when he shoots me. I have to speak to Ethan before darkness falls.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Ethan… Thomas?”</em>
</p>
<p>I see him nod and smile.  He has a plan for my son, I can trust he will be safe and hopefully happy.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Four…”</em>
</p>
<p>I return the smile.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Three…”</em>
</p>
<p>I can finally say the words that urge to get out of my being.</p>
<p>
  <em>“I am so sorry, Ethan.”</em>
</p>
<p><em>“Two!”</em> Vic shouts. But I can only focus on the love of my life’s perfect face, it’s telling me that everything will be fine.</p>
<p>I think I hear the roar of a projectile coming out of the barrel.  I am not sure as I get surrounded by blackness once again, maybe for good.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Vic looked up in surprise; the roar of gunfire was coming from floors above.  For a moment, he lost concentration and lowered his weapon before attempting anything against Ilsa.</p>
<p>He tried to aim his gun back at the agent, but it was too late.  Ethan took advantage of the situation, grabbed his weapon from the ground and fired at Vic. Where a shattered nose once existed now a huge hole remained.</p>
<p>A second bullet left Ethan's gun and hit the man holding Ilsa, right in the middle of his forehead.  Both bodies fell to the ground.</p>
<p>The remaining disoriented men opened fire, but Ethan was able to hide behind a wall. His desperate eyes stared at Ilsa, lying there; he didn't have time to pull her to safety.</p>
<p>He took a shot, wondering where the drones were. They started the shooting on the first floor but now he couldn’t hear them approaching. He needed them now.</p>
<p><em>They will not arrive on time</em>, Ethan thought. Any of the remaining four men could kill Ilsa if she did as much as move.</p>
<p>Therefore, he made a decision.  He came out of hiding, determined to cover Ilsa's body. He shot and killed two men, there were two more left.  They would shoot without hesitation but he didn't care, the only idea he had in his mind was to protect her.</p>
<p>He ran and threw himself on top of her.</p>
<p>Two shots were heard.</p>
<p>The pain caused by projectiles penetrating his skin was taking too long to appear.</p>
<p>He felt nothing. When he looked up, he saw a very young man with a distinctive scar on his cheek holding a flaming weapon; he had taken care of the last two men.  Ethan made a gesture of appreciation; the man just dropped the revolver and ran to hide.</p>
<p>The field agent took Ilsa's wrist and breathed in relief when he felt her pulse. He just had to have confirmation from his team now.</p>
<p>He brushed a few strands of hair off her face and immediately noticed the bruises on her cheeks, the fingers marked on her neck, the cracked lips and the clotted blood on her knuckles. </p>
<p>He couldn't help the anger rising inside so he took his gun and fired.</p>
<p>One, two, three, four, five times, all bullets pierced Vic's chest.</p>
<p>The coroner will report that those shots were not necessary; he will advise that an investigation be opened, because after all, agents should not act emotionally. But in the end it would not matter, anything is permissible when eradicating the scourge of this planet.</p>
<p>The drones, which had broken in through electrical ducts, were already finishing the task of shooting at everything that moved in all corridors, until they reached Ethan. The agent looked at them not entirely sure they weren’t going to kill him too.</p>
<p>The devices lowered their weapons after a minute.</p>
<p><em>“Thanks Benji”</em> Ethan said.</p>
<p>
  <em>“You're welcome, it is all clear. Is Ilsa there?”</em>
</p>
<p><em>“She is” </em>He answererd absentmindedly while tracing her jawline with his fingers.</p>
<p>
  <em>“The paramedics are already here.”</em>
</p>
<p>The agent lifted her up carefully and ran towards the exit.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Son</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>ILSA’S POV</p>
<p>I don't think my dreams have been pleasant. I don't remember them, but now that I am starting to wake up, negative feelings and dark sensations come to me, so they must have been nightmares. Or maybe it’s my body trying to tell me it’s not feeling well.</p>
<p>I've been through this before and my least favorite part begins just after I regain full consciousness and the world starts to hurt.</p>
<p>My eyes open slightly and the first thing I register is a dim light above.</p>
<p>I breathe, one, two, three times… oh here they come, waves of pain. My shoulder, my chest, both hurt… but I don't move a muscle. I’m not quite sure where I am and I prefer not to demonstrate I’m awake, at least until I remember the last thing that happened.</p>
<p>I hear voices at the bottom of my feet. I look down and adjust my eyes to the lighting. Armchairs at my sides, doors in front of me. Half open blinds. Smell of disinfectant mitigated by some kind of fragrance. I'm in the hospital.</p>
<p>I follow the voices and make out two people on the chairs. One much smaller than the other.</p>
<p>
  <em>Dad, if mom wakes up soon, can we go for ice cream?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I think so, son. It depends on the weather; if it's cold we'd better eat something else, like a hot dog.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>What’s a hot dog?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>You don’t have hot dogs in Norway?</em>
</p>
<p>Ethan is holding a comb and he is running it through Thomas's hair. With such dexterity and getting absolutely no complaints from my son (he always screams when I do it) it seems he has done it before. How long have I been sleeping? My son laughs because his dad has tickled his ear; that represents an invitation for Thomas, who throws himself on top of Ethan, as if he were a wild animal. In his attempt to save himself, Ethan lifts my boy into the air and spins him around.</p>
<p>Their laughter fills the room and tears do the same with my eyes.</p>
<p>I think I dreamed this once; I never thought it would come true though…both of them playing together… and Ethan calling him son.</p>
<p>It is not my intention to interrupt this moment, but emotions play a trick on me, something presses on my chest and I am short of breath, I begin to cough.</p>
<p>Soon I see Ethan's perfect features close to me.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Ilsa, calm down, you'll be fine.”</em>
</p>
<p>He places the oxygen mask on my face. I don't need it, I just want to hold Thomas in my arms.  But I can't stop coughing! So I settle with the mask and I take a bunch of air.</p>
<p>After a few minutes, I feel my lungs can run by themselves. My hand ventures up and removes the mask.</p>
<p>“Hello.” I say shyly.</p>
<p>“Hello” he replies.   His hand reaches my face, his fingers stop at something, probably a bruise. That is what we used to do, assess each other’s wounds. He's standing so close and I am only capable of focusing on his lips.</p>
<p>“Mom!” Thomas is suddenly on top of me with his little arms around my neck. What a delicious hug and extremely painful too.</p>
<p>Ethan lifts my boy up to prevent him from breaking my other shoulder.</p>
<p><em>“Sweetie, I love you…I missed you very much” </em>I tell my kid; it hurts not to be able to squeeze him against my chest.</p>
<p><em>“Me too Mom, but Dad and Aunt Jane took care of me.”</em> He released himself of Ethan's arms and got into a toy car battle.</p>
<p>Aunt Jane ... ok ... who is Aunt Jane?  I get a dark feeling and I can't help it. Sure… I mean… Ethan has every right to do with his life what he feels like.Pragmatic Ilsa speaking here.</p>
<p>Even so, jealousy begins to boil inside my chest.</p>
<p><em>“Hmm… Jane Carter… is an IMF agent, she came to Norway specifically to take care of Thomas”</em> Ethan says, guessing my thoughts.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Okay.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Ilsa ...”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Shhh, you don't have to explain anything to me. I understand and I’m extremely grateful for everything you’ve done for us.”</em>
</p>
<p>I do not want him to disclose his love life in the last 4 years to me; I prefer not to know.  What if he says something such as <em>"Ilsa I got married and have five children? </em></p>
<p>I am aware it could also be an<em> "Ilsa I’ve been alone, hoping you’ll come back"</em> but at the risk of being the opposite, I prefer not to hear it.  After the absurd of my acts and all the suffering I caused him, it would be natural if he just wanted to deliver the boy and storm out.</p>
<p><em>“Thomas is a great kid.  You’ve done a very good job.” </em>He always had a gift of saying the right words at the right time.</p>
<p><em>“Thank you”</em> – I can’t help but blush, getting your job as a mother recognized is a fabulous compliment. – <em>“I see that you two have gotten along great”</em> I reply.</p>
<p>
  <em>“I had my moments of insecurity but fatherhood is coming almost naturally.”</em>
</p>
<p>I wonder what that means. Is he implying his intention of being present in our son's life? I feel the need to speak the words that been gathering inside me through all this years.</p>
<p><em>“Ethan, I want to apologize, I realized how selfish I was. We have trusted each other since we met and at the most critical moment I chose insincerity, I ruined it”</em> My eyes start to get wet <em>“The affection I have for you has not diminished, I am not asking you love in return.  I just don’t want you to hate me. Thomas will be waiting for you whenever you want to see him and… I will be too.”</em></p>
<p>Ethan’s face remains emotionless for a while, but then his mouth starts to produce words.</p>
<p><em> “Ilsa, I don't hate you”…</em> He takes my hand and his fingers intertwine with mine. “<em>I was furious for a while and pride prevented me from going after you. I regret that with all my heart…and I…”</em></p>
<p>The door opens loudly and I want to yell whoever is there to get out so Ethan can finish what he has to say but I get a glimpse of this two men coming in and I can’t help but smile.</p>
<p>
  <em>“We are so glad to see you awake! We were waiting for you for quite some time.”</em>
</p>
<p><em>“It's nice to see you too Benji!” </em>Gosh, it feels so good to see such beloved people after all this time.</p>
<p><em>“Uncle Luther! Come to play with me.”</em> My son screams and I smirk at the familiarity in which Thomas speaks to my own friends.</p>
<p><em>“How are you doing? </em>I recognize real concern in Benji’s eyes. I manage to smile. “<em>Ilsa you scared us a couple of times, back at ambulance you left us and the paramedics had to ...” </em>and he made a gesture with his hands as if using a defibrillator. I laughed, because Benji still can't mention the name of the device after what happened a few years ago. I am to blame for that trauma.</p>
<p><em>“Yes, the internal bleeding had to be taken care of immediately”</em> Luther continued <em>“You are strong. The doctors were amazed at the damage. My friend Ethan didn't sleep for two days.”</em></p>
<p>I turn to face the handsome agent and he looks back at me with reddened cheekbones.  Does he still love me? It's the only doubt that hunts my mind.</p>
<p>His hand stroking mine suggest that maybe he still does.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. An agent like Dad</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This has been a real thrill. I just finished my first fanfic ever and I loved it. Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think! I also accept constructive criticism :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>ILSA’S POV</p>
<p>Somewhere in North America - 11 months later.</p>
<p>We're taking a walk on the beach, it's Thomas's favorite day.  On Fridays, we leave home for the entire afternoon, take a picturesque ferry, buy ice cream and run. Well, he runs and I chase him.</p>
<p>It is a good way to distract ourselves and forget some past events.</p>
<p>I decided to move to a more benign weather, the persistent cold was beginning to intrude on our moods. Thomas accepted the idea right away and the first thing he yelled when I told him was that he would be closer to Dad. His effusiveness caught me unguarded.</p>
<p><em>“Thomas, Dad is very busy, we may not see him. You know what he does ...” </em>I tried to explain the situation to him, without hurting his soul.</p>
<p><em>“Yeah ...  he saves the world”</em> he replied <em>“but he told me that he would come to see me more often.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>“I know, baby.”</em>
</p>
<p>I didn't want Thomas to see my own disappointment and I didn't want him to get false hopes. We haven't heard from Ethan since I got out of the hospital. He stayed on my couch for three days and one morning we woke up and he wasn’t there anymore.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Look Mom, a crab! it's a baby one.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Yes, I see it. We just take a look, ok? You shouldn’t touch him, their mother is close and she sure does not want him to be disturbed.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Ok mom.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“We will rest here. If you want, you can run as far as I can see you.”</em>
</p>
<p>He nods and runs off to get his feet wet in the sea. It is nice to have him concentrated in something else other than his mom because a book is waiting for me inside my bag and I am eager to have some time for myself.</p>
<p>I settle on the sand and breathe; this is my happy place.</p>
<p>Peace lasts very little though. My phone starts ringing.</p>
<p>And I know who it is, no one else calls me.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Benji, hi.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Wow, I can tell by the sound of your voice that you are happy to talk to me, am I interrupting anything?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Not at all, my friend…Is this your monthly call?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I’m hurt! I call you almost weekly. Anyway, yes, this is my call to check up on you.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“We're fine Benji. Thomas's school starts in a few weeks and he is very happy.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Oh right, he’s going to St. Marcus.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I didn't tell you that.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Mmm... I guessed.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Ok ... tell me Benji, do you also send someone to inspect my garbage? Are you tampering with my computer?”</em>
</p>
<p><em>“Of course not Ilsa! – </em>A pause<em> - Should we?”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>“Noooo.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Ok, I was just making sure.”</em>
</p>
<p>Another pause.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Benji ...”</em>
</p>
<p>I'm growing impatient, I mean, I love Benji and I like to chat with him but he is taking precious time from me that I could invest in… I don't know… watching the sunset.</p>
<p>He speaks again.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Five more seconds ... ok ... ready. Nice talking to you Ilsa, take good care of Thomas. Bye!”</em>
</p>
<p>He hungs up.  It looks like ... he was tracking me.</p>
<p>Thomas is still running by the shore with a stick he’s found, poking holes in the hope of finding some forms of life, poor little animals.</p>
<p>Well, back to the call.  It was strange, I know Benji keeps a good record of our whereabouts; I’d liked to think he does it on his own initiative.  But maybe just maybe…he is following someone else’s requests…</p>
<p>I did ask Benji about Ethan during our first calls.  He would reply with a dull:  He is okay…you know him.   I always felt sadness or regret in his voice and thought he knew something about him and was hiding it from me.  So I stopped hunting for information… for my own well-being.</p>
<p>I never asked Ethan about his personal life. He’s probably living it now and Thomas and I are not included.</p>
<p>At the risk of ruining this moment, I make my best efforts to stop thinking about him. </p>
<p>I notice movement behind my back.  This is a deserted beach, that’s why my hand reaches for my bag after picking up on a stick breaking on my right.</p>
<p>Those are definitely footsteps approaching.  I stiff my spine on purpose; it allows me to be ready to move.  </p>
<p>Someone clears his throat and I turn abruptly.</p>
<p><em>“Hello”</em> says the intruder.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Benji guided you.”</em>
</p>
<p><em>“Yeah, I asked him.  Don’t hold a grudge on him.  Mmm… You can put the knife back, unless you want to use it”</em> He throws me that beautiful smile of his.</p>
<p>I have mechanically drawn my weapon to address the threat.</p>
<p><em>“Sorry”</em> I say while putting the knife back on its leather cover <em>“Benji could have asked where I was, he didn't need to locate me, you know.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>“Can I sit?”</em>
</p>
<p>I nodded.</p>
<p><em>“Wow, he is getting taller”</em> he said when he saw Thomas in the distance.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Yes, that's what children do ... they grow up.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Ilsa ... I'm sorry, I should have ...”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Shhh…. We have never requested each other explanations Ethan, let's not start now.”</em>
</p>
<p>“But I want to explain myself.”</p>
<p>I take a deep breath and I turn to face him.</p>
<p>Something important is going to happen, I know it. Whatever he says will define the future of the three of us. We are not necessarily going to like it. </p>
<p>I allow Ilsa, the somber, to talk this time.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Ethan, if you are going to say you can’t be a part of our lives because you are with someone else, I do not want to hear about it. It's okay like this. You calling Thomas occasionally is more than enough.”</em>
</p>
<p><em>“No.  It's not enough”</em> he says interrupting me. <em>“I want to give him more than a little, I want to …take him to school, teach him how to swim, answer his questions ... I don't know ... I want him to have a dad to hug when he is sad ... I want Thomas to have my last name”</em> then he turned his green eyes to me<em>.  “And I desperately want you to have it too, if you take it that is.”</em></p>
<p>I go blank. Have I misunderstood? Is he asking me…?</p>
<p>Ethan continues.</p>
<p>
  <em>“I'm sorry I vanished like that, I needed to fix my life before messing up yours.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Ethan…”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“…I left your house and I regret it the moment I stepped out because I was…”</em>
</p>
<p><em>“Ethan…”</em> I can hear the anxiety on my own voice… <em>“Just do what you came to do.”</em></p>
<p>I am so glad he complies with my request because he takes my face with both hands and places his lips on mine. I know he planned to kiss me gently, but I sense his eagerness on my own skin. If we weren’t on this public space with a possible G audience (Thomas) we would’ve taken this to a never seen level.</p>
<p>I don’t have to say this kiss was the best I’ve had in my whole life. I do love this man and I do want to be his again.</p>
<p>He moves his lips away from mine and I protest, but his intention is to look right at me. He caresses my cheek and I do the same with his.</p>
<p>The sun is setting and the last rays bright up our faces. The timing is perfect; he hugs me.</p>
<p>I’ve always lost track of time when I was in his arms, this time was no different.  I only come back to my senses when I realize I haven’t heard Thomas yelling or laughing for some time. </p>
<p>As we break apart from each other, three pounds of sand fall on our heads.</p>
<p>It's the well- timed Thomas.</p>
<p><em>“What were you doing to my mom?”</em> He was addressing his father, which now embodied a threat to him.</p>
<p>Not even the excitement of seeing his dad outstripped the need to defend what he considered his.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Well, I was hugging and… kissing her.”</em>
</p>
<p><em>“Only I can kiss her”</em> my son replies as he walks towards his father. Ethan spreads his arms and Thomas throws himself at him.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Well son, that will change from now on. If you wish, we could have a duel for the right to kiss the princess.”</em>
</p>
<p><em>“Ok… fight!”</em>  And the little mouse stands up with his hands clenched into fists.</p>
<p><em>“Oh no no… No fighting. No one in my family fights. There are no weapons in my house, no swords, grenades or bombs.  No technological artefacts that could do more than surf the web or answer phone calls, no masks that look like real people and such… That is a first rule... I am telling you both now.”</em>  I am unexpectedly emphatic and I'm not kidding.</p>
<p><em>“That is boring”</em> - says Thomas.</p>
<p><em>“Super boring”</em> - Ethan says.</p>
<p>They both think I am kidding.</p>
<p><em>“My son will be a scientist”</em> I say deadly serious.</p>
<p>
  <em>“No mom. I'll be an agent like dad.”</em>
</p>
<p>Ethan laughs.</p>
<p><em>“We'll talk about it later”</em> I state while stroking his little hand, but actually I wanted to say <em>over my dead body.</em></p>
<p>Ethan runs his arm over my shoulders and pulls me closer to him.  He kisses my forehead and I allow myself to rest.  Somehow, I am not able to find the usual silly concerns that were always dancing in my mind.  They seem to be gone for now.</p>
<p>And that’s a first.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>THE END</p>
  </div></div>
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